Lee Etheridge Poet Free verse

She Puts Honey On Her Toast

I took a hike 
up passed the bougainvilleas 
And up passed 
This garden full of flowers I can’t name
And up near an area of flowers 
That I can’t name
To find one flower by itself. 

The vine or stem had crawled under a fence and scratched itself onto the blacktop road
Slowly
Giving petals time to unfurl into a flower
Before getting stepped on or hit by a car. 
And it was enough time for an anxious bee
To get its ingredients.

Every time I watch my daughter put honey on her toast, I hope she’ll do it slowly and carefully by herself
Like that flower bloomed. 
And I’m happy I know her name.
Sloan.

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Reason A. Poteet August 5, 2022 at 6:14 AM I read the sadness in your piece and know that your experience is normal, expected. We lose them over the years; we're sorry that we were not able to be more of an influence, mentor in their lives. I pray as I hope pleading that God can show them how to make the right choices out there in the field. Nice piece, Cooper.